


A Foreign Concept

by sunshineboywill



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: High School AU, I’m only good at one-shots, M/M, Spanish Class AU, im a slut for sprace, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineboywill/pseuds/sunshineboywill
Summary: Racetrack Higgins is only interested in three  things: talking, the new kid in his Spanish class, and talking to the new kid in his Spanish class





	A Foreign Concept

Class was boring.

Sorry, Race was in Spanish class, which meant it was aburrida. La clase de Español era muy aburrida.

Race grew up speaking Italian. He could ace the AP Italian exam, but no he had to take two years of some stupid foreign language just to graduate. So he chose to take Spanish.

Spanish was easy. Spanish was basic.

Spanish was also boring.

Eventually, he zoned out, doodling mindlessly in the margins of some assignment about sports words, not even something he was interested in. What did Mrs.Garcia think he was going to do? The only sport he enjoyed was dance, but he didn't even get the joy of translating those terms since half of them were already written in French.

Racetrack popped up only when somebody knocked on the door of the classroom. Itey, the sucker who got roped into being the teacher’s assistant that hour, practically bounced to the door. The poor kid was probably just excited to not be reading over some freshman's mess of a Spanish paragraph. 

“Is this Mrs.Garcia’s room?”

Whoa. The new kid sounded hot.

“It is indeed! You're uh..,” Itey spoke, ruffling through papers until he finally found the roll sheet. He scrunched up his nose until he found whatever he was looking for. “Sean Conlon I assume?”

“Yup.” As the new kid walked further into the classroom it was obvious that nobody was paying attention to whatever bullshit Mrs.Garcia was talking about.

Because not only did new kid sound hot, he was hot.

“Ah, Sean! Welcome! Would you like to introduce yourself?”  
Race was leaning forwards so much he nearly fell out of his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his friend Skittery snickering, but honestly who cared? He just wanted to know literally everything about Sean Conlon.

“Call me Spot.”

Was that it? That was all he was going to say? Everybody was waiting, but his only addition to his introduction was a shrug. Well shit, so much for getting to know Sean. Or Spot apparently. Other than a possible pet play kink or something. Oh god he hoped he wasn’t a furry. Man, that would be wild. Hopefully he wasn’t wearing a tail. 

Spot turned around to ask Mrs.Garcia if he could take a seat and Race was very happy that not only was he tail-less, he definitely had a nice ass. Like really nice. Like sports-nice ass. Ohhh maybe he was a jock? He was a little skinny and his shoulders weren't exactly broad, but maybe he didn’t play a contact sport. Baseball, maybe? Yeah, probably baseball. Look at those legs.

“Take a seat behind Anthony.”

Holy shit. 

As he raised his hand with what was probably way too much enthusiasm, Race tried to stop from smiling like a lunatic. Skittery’s entire face had gone red and there were what looked like tears in his eyes as he desperately tried to keep from laughing. Spot smirked, giving Race a small wave before taking his seat.

Knowing that Spot was right behind him and that he couldn’t even talk to him was torture to Race. All he wanted to do was bombard him with questions, casual ones of course, like “Hey, do you like dicks?”, but Mrs.Garcia kept going on and on. The second the old bat stopped running her mouth Race turned around to run his. 

“Hi! I'm Anthony, but most people call me Racetrack, even though I actually really don't like horses all that much. They're kinda gross,” Race rambled, biting his tongue to try to stop himself from, yet again, smiling like a lunatic as Spot nodded and gave him his attention.

“The name ‘s Spot and I'd agree with that horse statement,” Spot smirked, making Race’s thoughts run wild. 

Oh my god he thinks horses are gross too maybe it's fate.

“You're new right? Do you want some help finding the cafeteria after this?” The only answer Spot supplied was a shrug, which Race decided to take as a ‘yes’. Man, Spot sure did shrug a lot. How did he not end up with the nickname ‘Shrug’? “So where are you from?”

Raising an eyebrow Spot narrowed his eyes a bit before he spoke, “You sure do ask a lot a’ questions, kid. Sure that ‘Questions’ ain't your nickname?” Race reached up to mess with his curls as he nervously laughed to hopefully cover his blushing. 

“Sorry. I've got a habit of not knowing when to shut up. I just like talking, talking’s fun. Plus, I’m Italian, not that I’m a stereotype or anything! I just don’t know when to shut up,” Race blurted. It was true. David was definitely, but Race was the original motor-mouth of the gang, especially when he was talking to cute boys. “Like right now….where I’m not shutting up.” 

“Good thing I've got a habit of cutting people off,” Spot teased. 

And of course, right as Race opened his mouth to talk even more, the bell decided to cockblock him. He couldn’t help but pout, cheering up only when Spot asked if he could sit with him at lunch.

“Since, I don't know anybody else I guess,” he explained. It was casual and awkward, but hey, Race would take anything he could get. 

“Oh yeah, of course you can! My buddies will absolutely love you. They’re all super cool.” As he walked side by side with Spot he couldn’t help but bump their shoulders together every few steps. Supposedly it’s gravity that pulls people towards each other when they walk on a sidewalk or in a group, but it could’ve been fate. Maybe just this once, Race would let it be fate.

“As long as they don't annoy me we’re all good. If I can deal with you I think I can deal with anything though,” Spot joked. Joking was good, that meant he was comfortable, right? 

“Hey, I'm not that bad!”

“You haven't shut up since that nut in Spanish stopped talking, Race.” As much as Race wanted to protest, Spot’s words were indeed true.

“Well… yeah, but it's not annoying, is it? I'm not annoying you, am I?”

Spot hummed as he pretended to think before finally rolling his eyes and shaking his head.  
“No, but are you sure it's not too late to change your nickname to Questions?” A blush flooded across Race’s face as he rushed to duck the lower half of his face underneath his sweater collar. 

“I earned the nickname Racetrack fair and square, we can't change it now!” Okay so he earned the name after falling off the side of a horse into a pile of horse shit on a field trip. But hey he didn't fall off that horse for nothing!

“Whatever you say dathúil.” 

Pausing to try and decipher the word Race panicked when Spot started walking even faster.

“Wait! What does that even mean?”

“Catch up and find out chatter-mouth!” Race looked at the barely-contained smile on Spot’s face when he turned to tease him and felt himself melt. 

Yeah just this time he’ll let it be fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Dathúil-handsome in Irish
> 
> Sorry if they’re ooc this is genuinely how I interpret the characters
> 
> Also! Please tell me what newsies you think would take what classes in the comments I might turn this into a series!
> 
> I’m thinking Bumlets and Snitch in French for the next one


End file.
